After Eight.

Gray summer skies,

The passing horizon every shade of pink and blue,

120 miles per hour with Coldplay on repeat,

Watching as the world goes by,

But this city doesn’t sleep at night,

And this town, baby,

Doesn’t quite have the same fire that keeps us alive,

But somehow your presence,

Provides solace to my shattered heart,

From instances of solitude.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s